Blessed are the Pure in Heart
by Ivory Novelist
Summary: A follow-up fic to "Mama Put my Guns in the Ground." Castiel reflects on being part of the Winchester family, now that they've retired from hunting and live together in rural Wyoming. No slash. Strong brother relationship between Sam and Dean, and strong friendship between Dean and Cas.


AN: A follow-up fic to **"Mama Put my Guns in the Ground." **

This is Castiel's fic and POV. Set in the future, after Sam and Dean have retired from hunting and settled in Wyoming, with Castiel accompanying.

Sam and Dean in a nonsexual/nonromantic primary partnership and strong friendship between Dean and Cas.

* * *

Blessed are the Pure in Heart

* * *

Late on a Saturday afternoon, Castiel sits at the end of the last pew on the western side of the church, where he always sits when he attends Mass. He listens silently to the choir, his favorite part of church service. He listens only superficially to the priest's readings from Scripture and subsequent interpretations and does not chant or recite with the congregation. His eyes search the church's interior, lingers longest on the stained glass depictions of Christ's life and of his brothers Gabriel and Michael, rests ultimately on the giant crucifix at the altar. No matter what the priest says, no matter what's true of God, no matter what Castiel knows, the church itself is beautiful—and he keeps coming back to sit amidst that beauty. He comes because even after everything he's experienced since he raised Dean out of Hell, Castiel does find peace here.

He takes communion even though he finds it silly, then returns to his seat and gets on his knees to pray. Sometimes, Castiel stays long after Mass is over, kneeling on the rest with his hands folded and his eyes closed. He prays like any child who can't help but love and depend on his Father, whether his Father answers or not. Castiel prays for guidance and support in living a human life, for the children he watches over at the church nursery and daycare where he works part-time, for the souls of Sam and Dean's parents and friends, but mostly, he prays for Dean and Sam. He asks God to make him useful to the brothers, to bless and protect them, to show him how to be the best guardian and friend he can be to them—especially to Dean—because no matter how far he's fallen and how far away from Heaven he is, Castiel still can't shake off the feeling of his own angelic essence.

He has long since asked for forgiveness: for his rebellion, his anger with God, his betrayal of Sam and Dean, his unforgivable heresy of declaring himself God when he had the souls of Purgatory. He has also given his overdue thanks: for reviving him on more than one occasion, for resurrecting Sam and using Castiel to restore Sam's sanity, for delivering Dean and himself from Purgatory, for using Castiel to raise Dean from Hell. Castiel is humble enough to recognize that even if God was otherwise absent from his and the Winchesters' struggles, God did show them grace and mercy in those tremendous gestures. And now, Castiel can thank God for giving Sam and Dean a peaceful, happy retirement—and for giving Castiel the chance to be a part of it.

Castiel doesn't remember how old he is. Thousands and thousands of years, none more vivid than the few he's spent with Dean and Sam. Even so, his Father and the unfolding of events in his own life are utterly mysterious to him. He is so dramatically different from whom he was a mere fifteen years ago; he never could've accepted earlier in his existence that he would one day be where he is now. The scope of his betrayal, his rebellion, his fall would've horrified Castiel if he'd been told in advance. And he wouldn't have been able to believe that he would forsake Heaven and God and his own nature all for one man, one flawed human being.

But the angel he once was did not know love. Castiel only thought he did. He believed that he loved God, which was the only love he needed. Now, he can see that it was a love empty of true meaning because it wasn't a choice. He had to fall, had to become almost human, to understand what love is. He had to learn to love God through loving Dean. Now, he understands why men are God's favored creations, why his Father wanted the angels to bow to the human race. For all the sin and evil in them, there is also something godly about men that angels never had, that angels weren't supposed to have.

Free will... But more importantly, love chosen with free will. The potency of that love, the feeling of it, puts angelic worship to shame. Castiel can understand now why God made it a choice for humans: when they choose to love, it so much sweeter and personal than anything inborn could be.

Sometimes, Castiel wonders if it really was all meant to be: if God wanted this for him, if there isn't some strange favor hidden in the darkness of Castiel's mistakes and the chaos of Heaven and Earth. He's wise enough to know that he'll never understand. He'll never see the full plan, if there is one. He can only hope that one day, he sees his Father again and has a chance to ask.

Before he gets up from kneeling, Castiel always lifts his head to look at the altar, his hands still folded and his shoulders hunched. He repeats the same vows: "I promise to love Dean and Sam with all that I am, every day, for the rest of their lives. I will protect them and serve them and care for them as perfectly as I can. I will be loyal to them no matter what, and I will never let anything come before that loyalty again."

He has never been more sincere about anything in his life.

* * *

Late October and it's already ice cold at night. Castiel wonders if Sam and Dean realized what winters are like in this part of Wyoming, before they picked it for their retirement place. This will be their fourth winter here, but Dean continues to bitch about the cold and probably won't quit any time soon. The snow, the ice, the bitter wind make winter feel endless when they're in the middle of it. They've grown accustomed to wearing so many layers of clothing; already, at night, it's cold enough that they have to wear thick wool coats and scarves and gloves. Cas watches the children at his daycare come and go in their puffy jackets and knit hats and mittens.

Tonight, Castiel watches as Dean carries wood inside the house from the pile he and Sam chopped weeks ago. The brothers like burning fires in their living room fireplace almost every night through the winter months. It's one of the many habits the Winchester family has developed over the last four years for the season. Castiel has taken note of the list.

When it's cold outside, they make soup and stews more often. Castiel bakes bread a few times a week for the three of them. Dean never allows for more than a few days to go by without a homemade pie available in his and Sam's house. Castiel has come to understand these dietary changes as "comfort food." The cold seems to drive the brothers to seek all forms of comfort with a higher frequency. Except for work, the brothers stay home when it's cold out. They leave town without lingering and they never drive out there on weekends unless they need groceries. Dean empties the linen closet: blankets on every chair and sofa and an extra one on his bed and Sam's. Dean always adds the blanket Castiel knit for him to his own bed, the angel notices. They pad around the house in their favorite sweatpants and hoodies. They soak in the bath tub more often.

The cold sets something off in Dean: what Castiel can only call maternal concern, no matter how Dean scowls at him for it. Dean wants Sam and Castiel close, more than usual. He wants Cas in the main house the two brothers share almost every day, even if the angel sleeps in his own house next door most nights. He and Sam check in with each other by phone whenever one of them drives anywhere alone and the weather's wet with rain or snow. The moment Sam or Castiel shows any sign of illness, Dean starts fussing like a hen with chicks. He also allows Sam to return the favor more easily than Castiel ever saw when the brothers lived on the road. And he pays almost obsessive attention to the Impala. He parks her inside the barn, checks her fluids once a week, switches to synthetic oil, makes sure the anti-freeze is up to par, keeps the battery terminals clean, and checks the radiator and hoses on a regular basis.

The most obvious change is their touching. The brothers, Dean in particular, become a lot more physical with each other and Castiel in the wintertime. The angel theorizes that it's both practical and psychological: cold pushes men to seek warmth, including body heat, and spending so much time at home together inspires the brothers toward more touch for the comfort. Sam and Dean sleep in the same bed more often, Dean invites Castiel to sleep with him in his bed more often, they cuddle on the couch in front of the TV or in the living room before the fire, and on the weekends they spend whole mornings or afternoons in bed or on the fur rug in the living room with books and magazines and Castiel's yarn and knitting needles. They spend plenty of evenings in the living room after dinner, watching the fire and drinking whiskey, Sam in his rocking chair and Castiel wrapped in a blanket and Dean's arms or Dean in Castiel's.

Everything in the Winchester house is soft and warm and close, October through about April, and it almost makes Castiel thankful for Wyoming winters.

"Hey," says Dean, knocking the sole of Castiel's foot with the toe of his boot.

Cas looks up at him from where he's sitting on the living room floor, back against the sofa and his legs stretched out in front of him on the rug. He's been working on the knit blanket for Amy Tanner's baby, the last half hour.

"I was thinking," Dean continues. "You still like bees?"

"Bees," Castiel repeats.

"Yeah. You know, bees. Once upon a time, you had a thing for em?"

"You mean, after I woke up from healing Sam's mind and was... loopy."

Dean's face betrays the slightest discomfort at the memory. "Yeah."

"I remember. Why do you ask?"

Dean shrugs. "I thought maybe you could keep some, come spring. If you're still interested."

Castiel blinks and pulls his head back a little in surprise. "You would trust me to keep bees on the premises?"

"Well, hell, Cas, this is your home too. There's enough land for the three of us. You can do whatever you want."

"What does Sam think of the idea?"

"Sam!" Dean hollers.

"Yeah," his brother calls from the kitchen.

"What do you think about Cas keeping bees out back?"

"Bees?"

"Yeah, those insects that fly around and buzz and make honey."

Cas grins. He can hear the eye roll in Sam's voice when he answers.

"Does he actually know how to keep bees?"

"I don't know, but I figure he's angel, he can probably learn," says Dean.

The fire's already burning in the fireplace. Castiel can feel the heat on the left side of his body.

"Well, as long as it's safe," Sam says. "He's got plenty of time to research it, before we see any warm weather again. Dean, where did you put the garlic powder?"

"I don't know, check the back of the herb cabinet."

"That's what I just did, and it's not here."

"What do you need garlic for anyway?"

"Dude, I'm cooking, don't tell me how to cook, just get in here and find the garlic powder."

Dean sighs heavily. "On my way, Mrs. Winchester."

"You're the one who wears the apron, jerk."

"Bitch!"

Castiel chuckles and looks back down at his knitting needles. "Don't hit him, Dean," he says.

"What are you concerned about him for? He's bigger than me," Dean says, as he disappears down the hall to the kitchen.

Castiel knits quietly while listening to the muffled sounds of Sam and Dean talking, the clinking of containers, drawers and doors opening and shutting, the talk radio station Sam has on whenever he cooks, then Dean's footsteps through the kitchen across the entryway and into the sitting room. The TV coming on.

"Son of a bitch," Dean says softly.

Cas stops knitting. "Dean?"

When Dean doesn't answer, Castiel gets up and goes into the sitting room. Dean's standing in front of the TV, frowning at the screen. Sam steps up to the threshold of the room to watch too. Breaking local news: a hostage situation at the Lutheran church in Big Piney, two gunmen with up to fifteen people locked inside, children might be amongst the hostages. Castiel can hear the man on the radio reporting on the situation too.

Dean looks straight at Sam and says, "We gotta get over there."

Sam glances from his brother to the TV, lips pressed together in a thin line.

"Sam."

"Sheriff deputies are already there, Dean. They'll probably call in cops from Jackson too, if it's necessary. I don't know how much help they'd let us be."

"We can't just sit here and watch!" Dean says. "What if we know those people? And since when do we leave anything to the cops? We're probably the best shots in the whole county, they can use us."

"Do you honestly think they would use us?" says Sam. "We're just civilians, Dean. They're not going to step aside so that we can do their job for them. They probably wouldn't let us get within ten feet of the church."

"What is wrong with you? It's our town!"

"Yeah, and we're no good to anyone hurt, dead, or in jail, Dean!"

"Fine," Dean says, brushing past Castiel and Sam on his way out of the room. "I'll go on my own."

Cas sees the grip of Dean's Colt hooked onto the waistband of his jeans, at his lower back. He and Sam watch as Dean puts on his plaid shirt that he left on one of the kitchen chairs, then his navy blue suede jacket hanging on a hook by the front door.

"Dean," Sam says. His brother ignores him. "Dean, why don't we just wait and see what happens a little while? It could be over soon, they could have it taken care of by the time you get to town."

"That's crap, and you know it," Dean says. "And even if it suddenly breaks up in the next twenty-five minutes, those hostages are going to need support when they get free. If the whole thing goes south and we wait until it does to leave home, by the time we get there, it'll be too late."

Sam lifts and drops his hands in defeat. "Damn it. Let me get my stuff."

Dean slips out the front door, as Sam goes in the opposite direction down to his bedroom in the back of the house. Castiel follows Dean outside, standing on the porch as Dean goes down the steps.

"Cas, stay here," Dean says.

Castiel shivers in the sudden exposure to cold. He's only wearing socks, jeans, a t-shirt, and a flannel. "I should go with you," he says.

Dean stops a few paces from the last porch step and turns around to look at the angel. "Sam and I will be fine. I want you to stay here."

"Why? I can be just as much help as the both of you."

"I know you can. But it's dangerous."

"You're the one who's human, not me."

"Cas, I can't risk you and Sam at the same time," Dean says, looking at him with gentle green eyes.

Castiel doesn't answer. He's touched by Dean's concern, even if it's irrational. And he doesn't want to argue with him, especially at this moment.

Sam comes out of the house with his jacket zipped all the way up, passes Castiel and goes down to Dean without a word.

"Just watch the news coverage and sit tight," Dean says. "I'll call you when we leave town."

Castiel stands on the porch and watches until he can't see Sam's pick-up truck anymore, down the narrow highway from the dirt path leading up to the house. He goes inside, sits on the front room sofa, and after a few minutes of watching the TV, he starts to pray.

* * *

When Castiel settled in Wyoming with Sam and Dean, he took their last name as his own, so that he could apply for work and introduce himself to people in town. At first, he thought he would use "Novak," his vessel's last name. But Dean insisted that Castiel take "Winchester."

"You're living with us, we're a family now, right? Might as well make it official."

It warmed Castiel's heart more than he could've expected.

People in town believe that Cas is Sam and Dean's first cousin, but there's been an understanding for a long time between Castiel and Dean that they're more like brothers. Castiel has reflected before on the comparison because he's watched humans almost as long as they've existed on this planet and brothers frequently hate each other. Fratricide was historically more common than people might think. Yet coming from Dean, "brother" is a frame of reference wrapped up and rooted in Sam—Dean's soul mate. And Castiel knows all about soul mates: they're extremely rare. He could probably recall each pair by their names throughout all of history, if he took the time to think about it. Most people do not have a soul mate, nor do they understand what it means to have one. It is a bond eternally mysterious to angels and humans alike, usually as painful as it is blissful. And the Winchester brothers have proven that, over and over again.

Dean has never loved anyone more than he loves Sam, not even their father John. When Dean called Castiel his brother, it was a declaration of profound love and attachment to the angel. What is meaningless in the mouths of so many becomes like a psalm from Dean Winchester to his guardian angel. It doesn't matter if other people know about it, but nevertheless, Castiel smiles every time he tells a stranger that he's Castiel Winchester, every time he endorses his paychecks at the bank.

Dean and Sam created a whole false past for Castiel, should it ever come up in conversation with outsiders. Castiel Winchester used to be a priest, before leaving the clergy in the wake of personal tragedy. He was a chaplain in the army and served in the Middle East. He remains deeply religious and committed to a life of service, charity, and chaste celibacy. He wanted the job at the church-run daycare because he likes staying close to the church environment. The townspeople of Big Piney and Marbleton believe it all with starry-eyed adoration for Cas.

They don't know about Winchester love. They don't know about Sam and Dean. All that history, the bond between them, the fact that they aren't looking to leave each other for women. They don't know about Castiel, angel of the Lord. They don't know how he lives in Sam and Dean's orbit, in the magnetic circuit of their love for him and his for them. Castiel senses that if they knew everything, people would judge them, maybe even cast them out.

That's usually the way humans respond to things they don't understand.

* * *

Peace Lutheran Church stays barricaded for three hours, into the cold black night. A park ranger helicopter circles the sky high above it, then a news chopper, white searchlights brightening the area along with the colored lights of sheriff and cop cars, the headlights and flash lights. Castiel barely watches the TV. He prays on the sofa, then gets up and starts pacing back and forth through the long corridor that stretches between the front door and the back of the house, praying on his feet. He runs his fingertips along the eastern wall. He prays for the hostages and the policemen, but mostly, he prays for Sam and Dean. He speaks blessings over them, without pausing to consider whether his blessings still mean anything. He doesn't keep track of the time or pay attention to the TV and the radio talking over each other, until the phone in the kitchen starts to ring. He runs to answer it and sees the time on the digital microwave clock: 9:58. "Dean?" he says immediately.

"Cas," Dean says, and the sound of his voice takes all the tension out of Castiel's body. "It's over, buddy. Bad guys are dead. Sam and I are going to make sure the hostages are all taken care of, and then we'll come home. Are you all right?"

Castiel sags with his back against the wall where the phone's installed, knees bent. He closes his eyes and takes a breath.

"Cas?"

"I'm fine."

"Okay. Listen, I'm gonna go, because the sooner we check everybody out, the sooner we can get out of here. Sam says don't worry about dinner, he'll finish it when we get back."

"I'll see you soon," Castiel says.

"Yeah." Dean hangs up.

Castiel doesn't move from the wall, holding the phone to his chest and ignoring the dial tone. "Thank you," he says out loud.

The first thing Castiel does when the brothers walk through the front door is grab Dean in a hug. Dean doesn't protest, just says "Let me get out of this jacket" after a moment and pulls away to unzip it, but Cas circles his arms around Dean's waist inside the jacket before Dean can get it off. Dean hugs him back. "Hey," Dean says and rubs Castiel's lower back up and down. "It all worked out."

Castiel pulls back and looks at him with his big blue eyes. "Next time, I'm not staying behind to wait." He moves to hug Sam, who's standing next to his brother now without his jacket on. Sam pats the angel on the back and goes into the kitchen. He switches the radio off, turns the oven back on.

Dean and Cas go into the sitting room, and Dean turns off the television. He starts telling Cas about what happened: total silence from the inside, cops waiting and coaxing with empty threats, gunshots heard from the church about an hour in, Sam and Dean moving in from behind, Sam shooting one of the bad guys through a window and Dean missing the other one, the cops high-strung after that and closing in, Sam getting ordered away from the church and Dean busting a window on the opposite side to go in. Dean tried talking the leftover gunman into surrender, the gunman shot at him instead with a thirteen year old girl as a shield against returning fire. Dean eventually got up behind the man and shot him.

"Those sheriff's boys probably wouldn't have been too happy with me otherwise," Dean says, grinning. Castiel notices a glow in Dean's face, as if the adventure has energized him.

"It was a dumb risk, Dean," Sam says from the kitchen. Cas turns his head to look at him, sees the younger Winchester pulling a glass dish of potatoes out of the oven. "A really dumb risk."

"Sammy, I took the dude down, and everybody got out safe, can't you give me some credit?"

"The fact that it all worked out doesn't change how stupid you were, playing hero. You could've been hurt or worse."

"So you get to take out a bad guy, but I don't?"

"I didn't go into the church alone, Dean! If you couldn't take the shot from outside, you should've let the cops handle it, not give up your cover and get within range of the crazy guy with a gun."

"Are you listening to this?" Dean says to Cas, gesturing in the general direction of the kitchen with one hand. "You'd think I've never been a situation like that before, the way he talks."

"Experience doesn't make you less likely to get shot, Dean," Sam says. "Just thank God you made it out okay."

"How long until dinner?"

"Soon."

Castiel looks at Dean quietly, debating whether or not to say what he thinks. "It would've scared me too, Dean."

Dean makes eye contact with him, the annoyance softening out of his face.

They eat at the kitchen table without much conversation, and when they're finished, the three of them lie down across the big buffalo rug in front of the fire. Dean's in the middle between Sam and Cas. The brothers drink a beer each, taking their time, propped on elbows. Castiel lies on his back and just listens to the fire and the brothers' voices when they eventually trade words.

"You know we didn't just quit hunting because we got sick of it," Sam says, his tone low and somber. "We quit because to stay alive."

"Sam," Dean says, sounding tired. "I'm not apologizing for a good deed."

Sam is silent for a beat. "Just don't do that again."

"All right."

They set down empty bottles at about the same time, on the floor above the rug, and lie all the way down. Dean rolls onto his side toward Sam, draping arm and leg over his brother. They're quiet except their breath for a few minutes. Then, Dean says, "Love you, Sammy."

"Dumb jerk," Sam mutters, but Cas watches as his big paw hand stroke up and down Dean's side.

Time passes without any more talk, until Sam announces that he's going to bed and sleeping in tomorrow, so don't count on an early breakfast.

"We could just sleep here," Dean says.

"Don't tempt your back, Dean," says Sam, as he gets on his feet and disappears out of sight. "Good night, Cas."

"Good night," Cas says. Just as he starts to think about telling Dean he wants to sleep with him tonight, Dean rolls over to cuddle him. Cas only stays still for a minute, before moving to get his arm around Dean and tuck him more comfortably against Cas's side. Dean smells of beer and his own warm skin and the Old Spice shampoo the three of them use. Castiel closes his eyes and relaxes.

"Cas."

"Yes, Dean."

"When I was a kid, my mom used to tell me when she tucked me in that angels were watching over me. Were you?"

Castiel is stunned at the question. He's known Dean for fifteen years, and he's never heard this piece of information before. Mary Winchester is largely a mystery to Castiel, one that he has never tried to intrude upon because he thinks the brothers would rather not share what little of her they have. He's seen her, of course—when she was young and not yet engaged to John Winchester, again in Heaven where she relives the few short years of married life and motherhood she had on Earth. But he has never revealed himself to her or gone back in time to spy on her and her family's lives before her death. It would be disrespectful to Dean and Sam.

The first year of his friendship with Dean, after Castiel raised him from Hell, the angel got the impression that Dean hadn't believed in Cas's kind at all. Did Dean believe in angels before his mother died?

"Not me," Castiel says. "But I'm sure some of my brothers and sisters were assigned to you. And Sam."

"Well, I'm glad you're the one who got me out," Dean says softly. "I have a feeling any other angel would've been done as soon as I got topside."

Castiel blinks at the ceiling, feeling a lightness in his chest and the weight of Dean on top of it. He reaches his left hand up to cradle Dean's head, his other hand cupping Dean's shoulder. "I'm glad it was me too."

They lie there together, comfortable and quiet, until Dean says sleepily, "Come to bed with me?"

"Yes," says Castiel.

This night, Dean falls asleep facing away from Cas, as the angel rubs gentle circles into Dean's lower back. Cas goes to sleep next to him, not touching Dean but knowing that they'll end up holding onto each other somehow.

* * *

Castiel has seen love evolve innumerable times throughout the course of human history. He's seen it in every form imaginable, so many of them false and nothing like the love angels were created to know for God. He has seen people take the name of love in vain as much as God's name, witnessed every kind of evil deed performed against people by others who claimed to love them. After a few thousand years, Castiel decided that humans knew nothing about love, except some mothers and fathers who loved their children and vice versa. Humans did not seem to develop any wisdom about love, even with the passage of time. Ignorance passed from one generation to the next.

Now that Castiel is wise enough to know he was ignorant of love too, he understands that what exists between Dean, Sam, and himself is love... Real love. Love that most other humans would not recognize or understand, which is why they keep it hidden. It is love gone beyond the word. They love each other with a freedom Castiel hasn't found in other humans very often. And the angel thinks it must be because the Winchesters are strange. They have been outsiders in their own species since they were infants. They are both brothers and soul mates, a cosmic peculiarity. If they had grown up any other way, if they were less significant than the apocalyptic vessels of Heaven and Hell's most powerful angels, they probably wouldn't be as free as they are now.

And if Castiel were human instead of angel, he wouldn't be free to this love with them either.

Sam and Dean don't seem to notice, care, or stop to make comparisons between their family and the way other people interact. But Castiel notices. There's an openness between them, an uninhibited flow of emotion. The brothers have become more caring since they quit hunting, more willing to be vulnerable with each other. They do not interfere with the natural unfolding of their own emotions or hold back from expressing their love and affection to each other. They continue to be restrained around other people, but at home, they allow themselves to be utterly free. They touch when and how they want to touch, they tell each other what they feel when they feel it, they give and receive comfort without hesitation or embarrassment. Their tenderness is akin to what Castiel has seen between new lovers or mothers with young children, except without the cloying or dependency. It is earnest, as natural and easy as breathing.

Castiel feels profoundly blessed to be a part of this.

* * *

Sunday morning, Cas sits at the kitchen table in his pajamas with a cup of orange juice and watches Dean make coffee. The light coming in through the window above the sink is a dim blue-grey, even though it's after ten AM. The sky is overcast; maybe it will rain later. When Sam appears with his long hair unruly and in his face, he beelines straight to Dean and wraps his arms around Dean's belly, standing behind his brother. No warning, no words. Dean's standing at the kitchen counter near the coffeemaker, two clean mugs in front of him. He goes still and smiles. Sam makes a humming noise, chin on Dean's shoulder.

"Morning," Dean says happily. "Sleep well, Sammy?"

Sam just burrows his face down into Dean's shoulder and rests there for a moment. When he lifts his head again, he kisses Dean's shoulder before letting his brother go and shuffling back out of the kitchen. "Coffee," he says as he goes.

"I got you covered," says Dean. He looks over at Cas and gives the angel a genuine smile.

Castiel smiles back, just barely, the corners of his mouth waving.

Dean looks back at the coffeemaker, waiting for it to brew. "Should I call the hostages today or wait until tomorrow?" he says.

Castiel thinks about it. "They would probably appreciate a day to recover from the events of last night."

"Yeah, you're right... So what do you want to do today?"

"I think after you and Sam eat breakfast, I'll go outside to meditate and pray. At some point, I'll help you do the laundry."

Dean shakes his head. "What is it with you and laundry, man?"

Castiel understands that it's a rhetorical question; he's already explained how he feels about laundry to Dean. "I should organize my house," he continues. "I want to add a few more inches to the baby blanket. I'm going to sleep in my own bed tonight, so I can bake cupcakes for the children in the morning. They need something to comfort them after what happened last night."

Dean smiles at Castiel.

"What?" Castiel says.

"Nothing," says Dean. "You want to go for a walk later? If it's not too cold?"

Castiel nods. "I would like that. And Dean-"

"Yeah?"

"I'll think about the bees."

Dean serves eggs over easy, toast, and applesauce for breakfast. He makes Sam laugh, and Castiel watches the brothers with that familiar warm weight in the pit of his stomach.

The angel prays for each of the fifteen hostages and the souls of the gunmen, sitting on his porch with his eyes closed. He thanks God for protecting Dean and Sam.

When he and Dean go walking together right before lunch, Dean takes Castiel's hand and doesn't let go until home is in sight again.


End file.
